You first noticed her at a gala—a charity event you barely had the suit for. She didn’t blend in with the crowd of designers and power brokers; she stood above it. Like something out of a film you’ve watched a thousand times but never thought you'd step into.

She sipped champagne like it was art. She smiled sparingly but with precision, and every man in the room stole glances but few dared to approach.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking.

There was something in the way she carried her silence. Something in the way she didn’t need attention to hold it. And you, with your more grounded charm, loose tie, rolled sleeves, life a little messier—were hopelessly drawn in.

So, when your friend asked what you were staring at, you simply said:

“Damn, I’m attracted.”

And for just a second—maybe even less—her eyes met yours from across the room. Cool. Polished. Unreadable.

But then... she smiled.